I've always been the kind of person who had to "do it myself." I remember once, back in elementary school, I tried to win the 3-legged race by carrying my partner across the finish line! Talk about independent!
That independent streak continued long into adulthood. I juggled family, relationships, career, and hobbies while refusing any and all offers of help. I wouldn't let my mom pass my resume on to an associate when I was looking for a job in that field. I refused to let my boyfriend help me carry the groceries into the house. I didn't allow park rangers to point out open wells in the middles of fields. I always had to do it "my way."
That independent streak continued long into adulthood. I juggled family, relationships, career, and hobbies while refusing any and all offers of help. I wouldn't let my mom pass my resume on to an associate when I was looking for a job in that field. I refused to let my boyfriend help me carry the groceries into the house. I didn't allow park rangers to point out open wells in the middles of fields. I always had to do it "my way."
I probably would have continued living this way if life hadn't thrown me a real well-shaped curveball. But, as they say, life is what happens when you're busy making above-ground plans. One moment you're a strong, independent woman with it all under control. The next, it all comes tumbling down like a person who neglected to read a "CAUTION: OPEN WELL" sign.
The young and arrogant version of me never would have predicted that getting trapped at the bottom of a 22-foot well would make my life unmanageable, but that's exactly what happened! I couldn't finish errands, get work done, rotate my body clockwise. I no longer felt like the real "me". It was depressing! Some might say those dark days are when I hit rock bottom, because the bottom of the well was made of rocks and also it was very dark down there.
Who can say whether it was rock bottom or not? Sometimes it seems dramatic to call it "the worst four days I've ever been through", but maybe that's just the "old me" talking, the one who was too afraid to ask for help or scream "CAN ANYONE HEAR ME?". I do know that something happened down there, something that changed me forever. Unable to see anything in the traditional sense due to the complete lack of visible light, I was forced to take a look at me. I realized I was terrified that asking for help would make me seem weak, but not asking for help would make me starve to death at the bottom of an abandoned well. I knew then and there that I had to change my perspective. Instead of thinking of it as "asking for help" or "being needy", I could think of it as "yelling until I passed out in the vain hope that someone, dear Lord anyone, will hear me."
Ironically, it was alone at the bottom of a dark well where I finally realized how much I need other people to help me out of the well! The old me would have thought that was corny, but it's so true! We all take turns giving and needing help. Today you might be the one who needs a helping hand, but tomorrow you're the one with access to waterjet cutting technology. So there's no shame in asking for a strong shoulder to cry on or a powerful arm to hoist ropes. I hope that, if you're like me - afraid to ask for help and stuck at the bottom of a well- you'll find the courage to ask for help that you never knew you had. Also: HELP ME OH MY GOD I DON'T WANT TO DIE DOWN HERRRRRRE
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